


Let Me Tempt You

by Smurphyse



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angsty bois, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Character Death, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Crowley as Raphael, Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Dark Thoughts, Death, Dom/sub, Emotional Hurt, I'll Update As I Go, I'm thinking this will have a happy ending? But super angsty, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), It's Ineffable, Mentions of Sex, Other, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Smut, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), bc im angsty and sad, but before its angsty and sad, crowley is a bottom, crowley x aziraphale, different kinks throughout, dubcon, i'm in a weird place and this is helping?, listen, mentions of self harm, slowest of emotional burns, so this is gonna be dark, sub/dom dynamics, they get together at the end, they're both fucking stupid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 02:36:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20418503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smurphyse/pseuds/Smurphyse
Summary: Aziraphale would rise, dressing quickly and without looking back at him, leaving Crowley on the bed (or whatever other surfaces they’d landed on), wrecked and raw and realizing once again that his angel didn’t love him,he lusted for him, and was so disgusted with himself after that he literally had to run away from him as if he were a bulimic who’d binged himself on sweets. He knew Aziraphale was regurgitating the memory of him as soon as he left.So, he would lay there, fighting back bitter tears of rage and disgust, wondering why he kept doing this to himself.Because you love him more than you hate yourself.What a stupid reason.





	1. Prelude/Teaser

They had been playing this game for such a long time, it was almost second nature to them. Like a sixth sense, something they both had a clear instinct for, but they only noticed when they came so naturally together.

It was killing him, quite honestly. It would be the death of Anthony J. Crowley.

Since Golgotha, they had dodged advances and ducked away from anything resembling real intimacy; anything to keep from closing the distance between them. They burned hot for one another, reaching out but refusing to touch. Crowley’s heart would ache and yearn for his angel, and once he had him in his embrace, he would sing praises to the stars for creating such a beautiful being. Aziraphale would whisper in his ear, such dark lustful things and violent delights. They would gasp into one another, hard and violent, soft and tender, and collapse in a heap of heavy breaths and wide eyes.

Then Aziraphale would rise, dressing quickly and without looking back at him, leaving Crowley on the bed (or whatever other surfaces they’d landed on), wrecked and raw and realizing once again that his angel didn’t love him, _ he lusted for him_, and was so disgusted with himself after that he literally had to run away from him as if he were a bulimic who’d binged himself on sweets. He knew Aziraphale was regurgitating the memory of him as soon as he left.

So, he would lay there, fighting back bitter tears of rage and disgust, wondering why he kept doing this to himself.

_ Because you love him more than you hate yourself. _

What a stupid reason.


	2. Golgotha Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's what happened in Golgotha, pt. 1. Enjoy!

As they watched Jesus of Nazareth hoisted up into the air like a depraved flag, His cries echoing through the sky and reverberating through their bones, Crowley and Aziraphale felt their hearts sink with grief and despair for the human race. 

His screams pierced them deeply, his pleas for mercy stripped them bare. 

“Father, please. You have to forgive them for they know not what they are doing!” Crowley could see He was trying so hard to be brave, to not let them hear His voice falter, to not let them see the pure terror in His eyes. He was just a scared child like the rest of them. The Great Plan might be ineffable, but nobody was infallible, not even the Child of the Almighty.

Crowley would have saved the young man, but Hell had sent him to Golgotha to ensure His execution was seen through, and they would surely notice if the Son of God just up and walked away.

So, he watched, as this man was tortured by those around Him. His poor mother stood at attention, trying to keep herself composed for her son. Her hand clenched and unclenched at her chest with every cry. Her chin held high, never wavering, never leaving her son’s agonized face.

Was she imagining Him as a child? Was she remembering Him waddling around the dirt floor, screaming with delight as Joseph chased him, laughing as they went? Was she choosing to see her newborn son, slick with the blood from her womb, cradled safely in her bosom and crying in confusion of the new world? Was she imagining her memories of Him instead of her blood-soaked child screaming in agony for the mercy of His torturers?

“Did you, uh, ever meet him?” Aziraphale asked, unable to take his eyes off the man, only glancing at Crowley as they spoke.

“Yes. Seemed a very bright young man. I showed him all the kingdoms of the world.”

Now Aziraphale turned to look at him, “Why?” he asked, as though he was surprised Crowley had been worthy enough of the companionship of such a man. Crowley almost hated him for that look, but he understood well enough. He was just a demon, a snake hardly worthy to be crushed under the feet of Christ Himself. 

“He’s a carpenter from Galilee. His travel opportunities are limited,” he lied, not looking at the angel. His heart had been full of rage and he had chosen to take it out on the man but found he could not. This man was too kind, too… something. He’d taken Jesus around the world to tempt him, to sully the name of God in any way possible. He had wanted to corrupt and destroy this precious child, the one he’d thought God could not possibly abandon, but now saw that God had thrown this son to the wolves as well. 

Crowley found himself shaking. He’d met this man; this child whose thirty-three years were infantilized compare to his own. This child who gazed in pure wonder and amazement at every new place Crowley had taken Him. Crowley had offered Him riches, kingdoms, women and more, but the young man had taken his hand, placed a gentle kiss on his knuckles, and smiled softly, “Your company is the only thing I ask of, and even then, you may refuse.”

Crowley had smiled back, unsure of what he meant, and a bit frightened, “What sort of company?”

Jesus had tightened His grip on Crowley’s hand, “Any sort. The sort you fall in love with or have your heart broken for. Or maybe the sort you break bread over and laugh into the night from too much cheap wine.” He turned Crowley’s hand and placed a small kiss on the open palm of the demon that stood before Him.

“I think I may enjoy that.” Crowley had responded, looking at Him with amusement and awe. Jesus knew what sort of man Crowley was, or wasn’t, and instead of casting him aside He had merely linked hands with Crowley and offered to wash his feet. This was not an idle gesture, it was devotion. It was His devotion to charity, kindness… and love, pure love.

Now Crowley had to watch as the only truly kind man he’d met was tortured, pinned in the sunlight like a piece of hide to be dried out and used. What would they do to His body? Would they just leave Him there like a sick trophy? He couldn’t bear it if this gentle child were to be thrown out like trash. Crowley had seen acts of human brutality before, but he _ knew _ this man. _ They _knew this man, and yet… they still chose to lynch him for the crime of love.

His shaking became worse, and he put a hand on Aziraphale to steady himself. _ Oh no, _ he thought, _ this will not do _. Jesus would see him, see how weak His companion was in the face of His execution. Crowley tried to breathe, tried to will the world to stop spinning as he fell to his knees.

“My dear, are you alright?” Aziraphale asked, turning to him, worry flashing across his face.

Crowley shook his head. His breathing was so loud. _ When had it gotten so loud and heavy _? Just as his vision began to cloud, he looked up at Jesus. His arms were outstretched, and Crowley watched as the sunlight draped around Jesus like a robe, bathing Him in warmth as His heart began to burst in His chest. He looked like an angel, and Crowley tried to take comfort in the fading sunlight that fell across his face.

_ He is safe now, my child. _

The voice came from somewhere so deep inside of him that Crowley almost thought it was his own. He was beginning to fall further into the ground, his palms digging into the dirt, trying to hold onto something, anything that would ground him. He felt like he was falling again, falling from Heaven; starving, hysterical, naked. 

_ He’s just a child! Your child! How could you have let Him die? How could you let Him sacrifice Himself for your own hubris? _

The questions swirled in his mind, the rage blooming around them and holding them close, ready to stoke the flames of fury and release them into the world with blood boiling wrath.

The heat rose from his chest and into his cheeks, his eyes finally falling from Jesus to his hands. They were fading from his vision too. He was fading. _ Falling. _

Just as he thought the world was finally, mercifully, coming to a standstill, he felt strong hands on his shoulders and went limp as he was lifted into the air. _ Weightless, _ he thought, _ just like before. Before… _

_ \---------------------------------------------------- _

Aziraphale had watched with sorrow and fear as they nailed Jesus to the cross, His shrieks of pain striking through Aziraphale as though he were the one being strung up to die. He tried not to cry, tried not to let the tears well up in his eyes in case another angel was lurking about. 

_ “But I don’t understand. If He’s really the Son of God why are we allowing him to be put to death?” _ Aziraphale had asked at the meeting to discuss his role in the execution. He had been summoned to Heaven for this. Not because he was a particularly important angel, but because he was the only one who had been on Earth for most of Time. _ “Shouldn’t He be preserved? Cherished?” _

_“It’s the will of the Almighty, Aziraphale, it’s not our place to ask questions. God has a plan. It’s ineffable,” _Michael had told him calmly, but Aziraphale could hear the edge to his tone. He shrank back from Michael’s gaze and looked down at his lap, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill onto his cheeks. He didn’t _understand! _He wanted to ask questions so he could be a better soldier, a better angel. If he only had _some _answers… _Why does this child have to die just so God can prove a point?_

It was during times like these that he rather missed Crawley. He would answer Aziraphale in a heartbeat, no muss, no fuss. He would help Aziraphale understand, instead of expecting him to accept what he’d been told at face value. He couldn’t be sure if he could trust the things his fellow angels were telling him. Did they even know the truth themselves?

_ Careful asking questions, angel, _ Crawley would say, _ don’t want to end up like me. _

He’d shuddered at the thought. He _ liked _Crawley. Crawley was kind to him, even though he needn’t be. Demons were either rude to angels or scared of them. Not that Aziraphale could blame them. After all, what if the angel decided to do some smiting? 

Aziraphale had never smited anyone, not that he cared to. He’d never choose to be that cruel. God had sent them to Earth to spread love and to be the humans' shepherds, and to Aziraphale that meant showing kindness to all God’s creatures, even if they _ were _ demons. Still, he never wanted to _ become _a demon, that would mean he wouldn’t be capable of love anymore and the thought frightened Aziraphale to his very core. 

“Come to smirk at the poor bugger, have you?” Crawley said behind him, causing Aziraphale to jump. He moved fluidly around Aziraphale to face him, taking great care to look him up and down, in that way of his that was almost predatory. His golden eyes betrayed this, as did the amused look on his face. That face that was always so expressive. _ He’d looked at him like that on the wall, way back in Eden... _

“Smirk? Me?” Aziraphale responded, positively aghast at such an assumption. He was _ obviously _upset. He knew Crawley just wanted to get a rise out of him, but he played along, like he always did. If Aziraphale had to tell the truth, which he would never in a million years, he rather liked the banter. 

“Well, your lot put him on there.” Crawley nodded toward the young man, his face changed a bit as he gazed toward Jesus, his eyes held a clouded expression Aziraphale couldn’t quite understand. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. 

“I’m not consulted on policy decisions, Crawley,” Aziraphale lied. He was consulted, yes, but his ideas were mostly ignored.

“Oh, I’ve changed it.” 

“Changed what?” 

“My name. _ ‘Crawl-y’ _just wasn’t really doing it for me. It’s a bit too squirming-at-your-feet-ish.” Crowley still looked forward, flinching slightly at each cry that came from Jesus’ mouth.

They chatted a bit longer, watching as He hung from the sky like a limp bird on a string. Soon enough, the screams began to subside, and the crowd dispersed. They all left but Mary and Joseph, and Aziraphale and Crowley, whose hand rested on his shoulder, a small comfort during this awful situation. They stayed and watched until His breathing became shallow and quick, still rasping pleas of mercy for those who had condemned Him. 

Aziraphale could hear His heart burst in His chest from the pressure of his arms having been splayed out as they were. He would have miracled away the pain if he could but knew that the Head Office would reprimand him. They would call it rebellion, they would call him Fallen. And so, because of Aziraphale’s own cowardice, Jesus suffered until the very end. 

There was a noise behind him, and as he turned he saw Crowley on the ground, his fingernails digging into the sand, his breathing heavy and escaping in sporadic gasps. Tears spilled onto the dirt as Crowley gazed up at Jesus, his yellow eyes wide and full of something Aziraphale hadn’t seen there before; grief.

“My dear, are you alright?” Aziraphale kneeled before him, shielding Crowley’s view from the haunting form of the dead saint. He cupped his head in his hands, trying to get Crowley to look at him, but Crowley’s eyes instead clouded over, and he went limp in Aziraphale’s arms. 

“Darling?” Aziraphale tried as he brushed back Crowley’s long red hair. It was no use, Crowley was out cold. He brushed his hands through the demon’s curls for a moment longer, admiring how peaceful Crowley looked while sleeping. His face no longer held the look of disdain it usually had, nor were his eyebrows furrowed with annoyance at those around him. He was truly beautiful when he stopped being such an absolute ass. Aziraphale wondered if this might be the only time he would see Crowley so vulnerable. 

Aziraphale could tell that Crowley had been presenting as a woman. It seemed an odd choice considering such dangerous times where women were bought and sold as property as frequently as an apple exchanged hands from vendor to customer. But then again, Crowley seemed to thrive in the dark and terrible. 

Deciding it would be best to get Crowley somewhere safe, Aziraphale picked him up, taking care to cradle him gently in his arms and to rest his head on his shoulder. He took one last look at Jesus, and then at His finally wailing parents, and then Aziraphale took Crowley home.

_ \--------------------------------------------------- _

Aziraphale pushed the door to his home open with his foot as he carried Crowley inside. It was just a one-room hut, filled almost wall-to-wall with bookshelves and stray piles of paper that laid a path to the small cot in the corner. It was perfect for Aziraphale, just enough organized chaos to keep him comfortable for awhile. It had done wonderfully for the five years he’d been there. 

He set Crowley on the cot, laying his head gently on the pillow. Aziraphale pulled the quilt over Crowley, tucked him in and after a thought, placed a small kiss on his forehead. 

Crowley looked rather small like this. He did not splay out like he often would when they got together. Instead, he curled up into the fetal position, pulling his long limbs in and holding tight, like he could disappear if he just curled up small enough. Aziraphale found he could not tear his eyes away from Crowley. He wanted to curl up behind him and hold him, to tell him that everything would be just fine with some time as he lightly rubbed his back. 

Aziraphale shook his head at the image in his head. _ He’d surely jump up and run out the door, _ he thought, _ Or worse, he would be so disgusted he would point at you and laugh. He would laugh at you for being so naive to think he even wanted your pathetic comfort. _He tried to push the thoughts away, to will them out of his mind. 

He walked to the other side of the room and sat in his plush armchair, his hands wringing in his lap.

Surely Crowley would not reject something so simple as an act of friendship? 

_ He’s a demon. He doesn’t feel love, therefore, he doesn't care for your silly attempts at companionship. He does not need you. _

But he just had an anxiety attack right in front of Aziraphale, right? Surely, it wasn’t a demonic reaction to the execution of Christ. It couldn’t be. He _ did _say he knew the young fellow, and he really seemed to be upset at His torture. 

Would Crowley be upset like that if something happened to Aziraphale? 

_ No, you pathetic fool. _

Just as he was beginning to make himself _ quite _upset, Crowley began to stir. 

“Angel?” he asked, his large eyes blinking slowly as he sat up. “Where am I?” 

He looked around the small hut, eyes falling first on the books, and then on Aziraphale.

“Oh, yours, is it?” Crowley pulled his feet underneath him on the cot, looking quite put-off and awkward.

“Yes,” Aziraphale smiled sheepishly, now a tad embarrassed of his humble home. Crowley probably lived somewhere more luxurious, with all sorts of drapes and oils surrounding him. Somewhere with a large bath tub, where he could soak and rub those oils into his skin. He always smelled of musk and lavender.

_ He probably looks lovely in a large tub, surrounded by bubbles… sweaty from the heat of the water… _

Suddenly, Aziraphale felt a bit sweaty himself. He sat up straight and gave Crowley a more reassuring smile, “I wanted to bring you somewhere I knew would be safe.”

“Right,” Crowley eyed him suspiciously, brushing out his hair with his fingers. He was _ nervous. _Aziraphale could see his long fingers shaking ever so slightly as he rebraided the plaits in his hair.

“Do you need help with that?” Aziraphale asked quietly. 

Crowley froze, his hands still tangled up in his locs. He swallowed hard, studying Aziraphale’s face for a moment before answering.

“No, I think I’ll be alright, angel.” He said this softly, almost _ gently _, one could say. It was comforting, meant to ease some of the tension in the tiny room. 

“Thank you,” Crowley said, and turned his eyes downward toward his lap, seemingly to focus more on what he was doing rather than Aziraphale. His hands were still shaking, fumbling with the plaits as he tried to make them neat. He failed, undoing the same braid a few times before Aziraphale rose and walked over to the cot.

He sat down slowly next to Crowley, taking his shaking hands in his and giving them a gentle squeeze. 

“What are you trying to do?” he asked, rubbing his thumb gently across the back of Crowley’s hands, not meeting his gaze. If he did, Aziraphale had a feeling that Crolwey just might bolt for the door.

Crowley’s body was stiff next to him, and Aziraphale could feel his eyes on him while Aziraphale continued to rub the back of his hands.

“I just want to braid it down, get it out of my face,” Crowley murmured, his eyes still on Aziraphale. He finally raised his head to meet Crowley’s gaze. His eyes were wide, staring at him with panicked uncertainty, his breathing had quickened and Aziraphale could see his chest heaving up and down like a little bird’s.

“I can do that,” he smiled. Aziraphale took another cushion from the cot and placed it on the floor, and Crowley took the hint to move down onto it. He tucked his feet under himself again, pulled a small comb from his robes and handed it up to Aziraphale without glancing up at him. He stared straight ahead toward the door, his chest still heaving.

Aziraphale took the comb and wordlessly began to comb Crowley’s hair. He started from the bottom and worked his way up, smiling to himself as he watched Crowley’s curls become poofy with the friction from the comb. Having once grown out his own curly hair, Aziraphale knew that this would make it much easier to braid as it would stick together better, and be less likely to unweave itself.

Once he had completely combed out Crowley’s hair, Aziraphale began to slowly run his fingers through it. He lightly grazed Crowley’s scalp and delightfully made a mental note when Crowley shuddered and closed his eyes at the sensation. He did it again, and again, until he felt Crowley relax a bit, and his shoulders became much less tense. Crowley leaned back into Aziraphale, and Aziraphale adjusted his legs so that they rested on either side of Crowley’s shoulders, giving him more to lean on.

“You have wonderful hair,” Aziraphale whispered as he began to braid. He was deliberate and slow, enjoyed being this close to Crowley, and delighted having him between his legs.

Crowley said nothing, just leaned a little further into Aziraphale’s lap, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the pampering. 

“You asked me before,” Crowley said quietly after a while, his eyes still shut, moving his hand under Aziraphale’s leg to rest on his thigh, almost like a handle to keep him from floating away, “if I had changed my name to Asmodeus. Why? Why the name of the Demon of Lust?”

Aziraphale took a moment to reply, finishing Crowley’s braid while he crafted what he wanted to say. “I suppose it’s the hair,” he said finally, “Such a lustful shade of red. Makes people remember it in the latest parts of the night.” Aziraphale began to tie the end of the plait with a strap, his hands fumbling and blood rushing to his cheeks.

He felt Crowley shift underneath him, and knew that he’d taken that as Aziraphale had meant it; lustfully.

“Do you?” he asked, “Think of it late at night?”

“I do.”

Neither of them said anything after that. Crowley sat still staring at the door, breathing as he did. Aziraphale chose to undo some of the plait and braid it again, trying and failing to will his hands to quit their incessant shaking.

“There,” he said as he finished again, tying the braid once more with the leather strap. “All done.” He ran his hand lightly down the plait, admiring his own work, trying to get himself to say something, _ anything. _He found he could not, and Aziraphale did something he’d never expected himself to do.

He reached his hands up to Crowley’s temples, tugging him gently back toward him. Crowley complied, moving his head so he was looking up at the angel. Aziraphale looked into his startling eyes for a moment, then placed a sweet kiss on the demon’s forehead. Crowley closed his eyes once more at the feeling, taking a deep breath in, then letting it go. 

Aziraphale pulled away, ready to move back toward the safety of his plush chair when Crowley turned on his knees, placing both hands on either of Aziraphale’s thighs. They locked eyes, as if daring the other to look away. 

Crowley reached out, placing a hesitant hand on Aziraphale’s cheek. His eyes studied the angel’s face, as if expecting him to pull away in disgust. He looked terrified. His eyes moved down Aziraphale’s face, to his lips, and Aziraphale mirrored Crowley as he licked his own. 

Then Crowley kissed him, soft at first, barely touching before he pulled away. They stared again at one another, eyes dancing and betting silently on who would run away first. Neither chose to concede for they could not lose to the Opposition. Now,_ that _ would be wrong.

Aziraphale pulled Crowley back to him, both hands cupping his jaw and holding Crowley to him firmly. Crowley moved from his position on the floor, pressing his body against Aziraphale, until the angel pulled him onto his lap, his hand firm on Crowley’s waist. 

They explored one another, kissing with different levels of intensity as they went, learning more about one another’s body. Their hands wandered, pulled one another closer, then let go. Over and over again they did this, discovering what made the other gasp or moan. 

For instance, Aziraphale could not hold back a smile when Crowley gasped quite loudly when he had intertwined his fingers in the hair at the nape of Crowley’s neck and gave a soft tug. In return, Crowley had dug his pelvis down onto Aziraphale, the friction causing them both to moan into one another’s mouths shamelessly. 

Crowley found his revenge as his hand snaked up the angel’s leg, finding the soft crook of his hip and thigh and giving a tight squeeze. As Aziraphale groaned into Crowley’s neck, Crowley’s long fingers spread out, brushing his soft belly and massaging downward as he moaned with Aziraphale.

They kept playing this game, of course, always the same game. One would strike, causing the other to cry out in pleasure, or to release a curse into the other’s ear. The other would retaliate soon after, making the other beg for release, or whine at a loss of touch.

They had both taken Earthly lovers, of course. They had both been tasked with understanding human life, and sex was a part of that life. That had been experimental; this felt as natural as breathing to them, as if they were meant to fit together.

Crowley’s hands reached up and grabbed the top of Aziraphale’s robes, urging him to lay them both on the bed. He gladly complied, shifting to fit between the demon’s legs, laying most of his weight down on Crowley, both crying out from the hot friction between them. One of Crowley’s hands began untying the knots that held Aziraphale’s robes together, the other untying his own, while Aziraphale’s hands grazed the tender skin underneath. 

Aziraphale had almost expected Crowley to be cold to the touch, like a snake. Instead, he felt red hot, a burning feeling that was only rivaled by the heat blazing deep in Aziraphale’s stomach. 

With some fumbling, they finally managed to disrobe one another, the clothes falling to the ground with a heavy _ huff _. Aziraphale couldn’t help himself as he took a moment to take in Crowley’s figure beneath him. 

He was utterly and undeniably beautiful. A thin sheen of sweat licked his chest, the dark red hair curled up much like the head on his scalp. His chest no longer fluttered like a bird’s, but heaved from the breathlessness that came with making out for long periods of time. Crowley gazed at him through hooded eyes, the pupils so blown that the golden irises were almost completely gone, his pupils lined by a thin gold ring. Aziraphale almost forgot to breathe he was so enraptured with the long, elegant man beneath him. 

“Something wrong, angel?” Crowley’s face had turned to one of concern, of uncertainty. How could Aziraphale tell him that he wanted to see Crowley like this at all times? How could he tell him he wanted Crowley panting, hot and coming undone beneath him, begging for more? 

“Not at all, my dear, just admiring the wonderful view I have tonight,” Aziraphale smiled sheepishly, running a hand down Crowley’s chest, along each curve and sharp line. It was amazing how Crowley was so sharp and thin, but still so soft and kissable, so comfortable to press against despite the bony structure he had.

He slowly ran his hand down Crowley’s chest once more, leaning forward and peppering soft kisses after the trail he’d left. There were some places he kissed a little harder, licking some softly with his tongue, and sucking others and grazing them with his teeth, leaving small bruises along the path down. Crowley’s eyes rolled back with each kiss, his hands fisting the sheets tightly as he gasped praises to his angel.

Aziraphale reached the end of Crowley’s stomach, his hand coming up to stroke Crowley’s length, smiling as he heard the demon release a small breath. He kept pumping his hand slowly for a moment, watching as Crowley came more and more undone beneath him. Then, to _ feel _ Crowley even better, Aziraphale took care to lick so softly, so gently up his shaft, basking in pure joy as Crowley’s hips rose achingly to gain more feeling of Aziraphale’s tongue. He simply lifted his head a little higher than Crowley could lift his hips, smiling when he groaned in frustration.

“Problem, dear?” 

Crowley looked down at the smiling angel, and simply shook his head, “No problem from me, angel. I’m absolutely _ golden _ .” He was biting his lip with such _ want, _Aziraphale could not possibly deny him any longer. 

He took Crowley in his mouth slowly (no fun in _ completely _ending his play), his own cock twitching as he felt Crowley shudder beneath him. 

“Oh, _ fuck _, angel.” Crowley knotted his hands deeply in Aziraphale’s hair, urging him to move. Aziraphale gladly followed, his head bobbing up and down, Crowley completely losing control as he licked and sucked, his hands rubbing Crowley’s thighs as he went.

“_ F-f-for...someone’s sake!” _ Crowley groaned, his body beginning to stutter. Aziraphale decided that he would _ not _be the only one having fun tonight, and pulled himself off Crowley, leaving a few licks before replacing his tongue with his hand. He slowly moved up and down, watching Crowley’s twitching face with amusement. 

“Crowley?” he asked, a smile playing on his pink and swollen lips. 

Crowley just looked up at him, his face pleading for release, “Y-yes... angel?”

“Are you ready for me, my dear?” Crowley’s hips jerked up at the pet name. Aziraphale hoped Crowley knew he was the only one he called that.

Crowley nodded quickly, unashamedly, “Yes, angel, I’m ready.”

Aziraphale nodded back, taking care to miracle some oil on his hand (1), and reached down between the two of them. 

Crowley hissed quietly as Aziraphale slowly pushed a finger inside him, and he hissed again as Aziraphale pulled it out with equal timing. He stretched him out a bit before adding another finger. Crowley was panting beneath him, _ fuck _ coming out of his mouth every few moments, his cheeks a deep shade of red as he struggled to keep himself together. Aziraphale felt a tad smug as Crowley reached a hand up to grasp the pillow underneath his head, trying in vain to have _ something _to hold on to. 

He cried out as Aziraphale removed his fingers, his usually wide eyes clouded with lust as he watched the angel go to work. When Aziraphale pushed slowly inside him, Crowley let out a noise that Aziraphale had not yet heard; a yelp almost, a cry of content. 

Aziraphale worked his way inside slowly, achingly, until he was fully inside Crowley. He slipped a hand up to Crowley’s plait and untied the leather strap, willing it to unravel. He tangled his fingers deep into the red curls and pulled gently, shuddering as Crowley gasped in his ear. 

“My dear, I do not believe I have ever felt something so wonderful as you do right now,” Aziraphale whispered, biting Crowley’s earlobe softly. He pumped slowly as he ran a hand under Crowley’s arched back, pulling him closer.

“Angel, I don’t think I’ll ever feel something this heavenly again,” Crowley whispered, almost too low for Aziraphale to hear. He began to move faster, harder, the two of them grunting and groaning against one another as they groped and clawed the other.

Crowley reached a shaking hand between them and began to jerk himself off to the rhythm of Aziraphale’s thrusts. Aziraphale’s hips began to falter as Crowley bit down hard on his shoulder, and as Crowley comes onto his chest, Aziraphale finally lets himself go and shudders deep into Crowley, crying out his name as he does.

They lay there awhile like this, Aziraphale collapsed onto Crowley’s chest, Crowley stroking his slender fingers through the angel’s hair, fisting the white curls here and there. They don’t speak, and soon Aziraphale pulls himself off Crowley to fit next to him on the cot. 

They lay there until they fall asleep, heavy breaths and soft touches lulling them to a different place, a place somehow safer than the bed they slept in.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Look, idk when lube was invented. Sue me.
> 
> Also, the braiding scene was partly inspired by this post https://twitter.com/gingerhaole/status/1159164565399076865?s=12 it's adorable and I cannot deal.


	3. Golgotha: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's what happened in Golgotha, Part 2.  
Read after the chapter for notes!
> 
> Also, when it comes to the Christianity stuff, I am not an expert, and am trying best and doing what I want to fit my narrative like the dictatorial author I am.  
Check out my tumblr (cumberbabeswillrise) and send me requests, or ideas you think might fit for this 6000 year romance ;)

Crowley awoke slowly, as he had trained himself to. Awaking quickly would hurt his sensitive eyes. Being a snake was _not _as cool as it should be.

He would feel for the sensation of someone next to him. He felt for Aziraphale’s soft warmth and could not find it. He listened, waiting for any sign of the angel in the small hut. Nothing.

Finally, sluggishly, he opened his eyes. It was impossibly dark, the blackness reaching out so far that Crowley couldn’t quite tell where he was in the small hut. He fluttered his hands around the cot, searching for any sign of Aziraphale, but could not find one.

It was cold, and he felt very alone in the darkness. He sat up, trying to steady his breathing and calm himself. He did not like being alone in the dark. In fact, he went to great lengths to ensure it didn’t happen. His home had few windows, but he kept it well lit with candles and a great fire. The light would shine off the tapestry and glimmer, and he would feel safe because he could see through the few shadows that were there. He couldn’t do that here.

“Angel?” he called out quietly into the black. No answer.

His breathing hitched, and he pulled his knees into his chest to ground himself. He couldn’t panic again. The angel would think he was weak.

_But you are weak, aren’t you, Craaaawley? _The voice in his head crooned loudly. It was deafening, the silent scream it bore into his chest. _You _had_ to touch the angel, _had_ to fuck him. _

No, he thought, it wasn’t something as simple as fucking like animals in a field. It was special, soft and slow, gasping and graceful. The two of them had made… love, hadn’t they? After all, Crowley had seen the colors again, just like he had in Paradise.

_Uuugh, for Satan’s sake. Do you really think an _angel_ would make love to a disgusting creature such as yourself? _The voice laughed cruelly. It always laughed like that, deep and chuckling somewhere deep inside him. He couldn’t claw it out, Lor- Sata- _Someone _knows he had tried before.

The voice had greeted him for the first time after he fell from Heaven. He had been watching the galaxies he created, seeing them move and fly and explode and grow when he had been ripped down with such sudden ferocity. He had been grabbed by his glowing wings and thrown out of his paradise.

His wings, which had before been carefully laced with white and sewn together with gold tendrils of silk, burned away as he fell, hurtling a million miles per hour out of the cosmos and into the abyss. He could smell his skin, which had always been softly dusted with lavender and vanilla, a smell he had loved so deeply, boiled and bubbled off as he caught fire. His wings were next to go up in flames, peeling delicate feathers off in sharp rips and tugs as they flew behind him, floating softly as they fell, abandoning him as well.

He tried to steady himself as he fell but could not. His skin began to turn black and hard, dark red and black scales formed, and he felt the scales grow along his back and where his wings had been. The fire became hotter, and he could have sworn he was turning to ash and would surely explode as he slammed through the Earth.

Crowley had awoken in such agonizing pain. Acrid smoke stabbed his nostrils, causing his eyes to water and snap open. The world was no longer a flamboyant symphony of colors. The reds and oranges of the universe were gone. He searched frantically for the stars, _his _star system, the one whose name he would eventually whisper into Robert Hues’ ear around 1592. _Alpha Centauri_.

For now, he strained his eyes for the purples and golds and startling whites of his stars, but his eyes failed. They were too sharp, too bright. It _hurt_ to open his eyes and look at the stars when before it had felt like God was caressing him as he gazed upon them.

Crowley tried to blink it away, but it was so… _clear. _It was painfully clear to notice when he looked at the stars, _his stars,_ he couldn’t see them the way he had created them. The purples, the oranges, the reds, the bursting explosions of white light, they were gone. A pulsating green and blue clouded his vision. They were all he could see. The colors were gone. (1)

He clamped his eyes shut, screwing them in as tight as he could. _It couldn’t be, surely God wouldn’t have taken that from him as well?_ No, not the beautiful galaxies he’d woven from stardust and carbon, that he’d spread out into the universe with gasping crescendos and swelling choruses. Reaching, reaching, reaching, trying to span out to the edges of the universe. He wanted it to be beautiful, he wanted to make it stunning, and he had. Raphael had made the cosmos a splendid spattering mix of colors and bursting lights. But God… God had taken away the color. God had taken away the beauty.

Crowley opened his eyes and could only make out the dull greens and blues around him. He propped himself up onto his elbows and gazed around him. Everything was dark, so dankly dark and damp, but he could still see. He glanced up again toward his stars, but they were gone, replaced by an equally dark ceiling. Crowley could hear things skittering around him, _watching, _sneaking and surrounding him.

_Don’t fight it, _the voice grumbled from inside him, _don’t fight the fall, Raphael. You’ve fallen, and now you’re a part of us. You’re a part of the Fallen. Welcome to Hell._

“No,” he whispered into the black, and laughter responded. It chittered all around him. He was surrounded, engulfed by the darkness.

He had spent millennia, maybe even eons, in the dark. He had used his scales to his advantage, slithering and sliding around in the dank, cold wetness of Hell. The rage and hate in his heart had festered like an infected wound and exploded often, drenching anyone within range with spittle and fury.

_Crawley,_ they called him. _Creeping, slithering, stinking Crawley. _The name fit him, he supposed. He skittered and crawled and scrabbled his way through the shadows. He reveled in the gloom, let it grip its icy claws around his heart and squeeze until he burst. He lost himself there, in the dark, and he was okay with that.

“Get up there and make some trouble,” they had said.

So, he had. He had slithered his way up through the cracks of Hell and out of the bottomless pits. He had crawled his way to the top. _Swarming, squeeming, squirming Crawley_ had made his way to the Garden, where he met a devilishly charming woman named Eve. He _liked _her. She had a glint in her eye; not malice or anger, but pure unfettered excitement. It was the kind of look he’d recognized as his own.

She wanted the world. She loved God’s creations, she loved Eden, she loved Adam. She loved the animals, the sky, the water, the sunlight. She even loved the darkness. She wanted _more_. She wanted to see everything. Crawley, rage blossoming in his chest, anger following his every idea, convinced her to eat the apple.

“You can be free,” he said, “You can roam the earth and you can learn more. Learn, question, you can grow.”

And so, she had. And he watched, as she and Adam were cast out of Eden. This did not make him feel better. In fact, he felt sad. He tried to hide it in his chest, to lock it away but found he simply could not. Crowley sat watching until he had spotted _him_. An angel perched upon the Eastern wall, looking out at Adam and Eve, with the same sadness that mirrored Crawley’s own.

“Well, that went down like a lead balloon.” The angel had hardly noticed him. But when Crawley saw the angel, soft and chubby, his skin glowing from inside, he knew. He knew that he was not the bad demon that they had told him to be. He wasn’t even a _good _demon. He couldn’t do anything right; they’d proved that to him. And through all the greens and blues of Eden, all the colors he knew he was missing from his sight, he saw them in that angel the moment he looked upon him. Blasts of yellows and reds and oranges emanated from within him. They weren’t how they used to be, duller, but it had been the first time he'd seen gold in _so long. _His hair was white, his eyes blue. Crowley thought he had had enough of blue, but he'd sing praises to the blue eyes of that angel. 

The angel _glowed_. Crawley could see it, and he couldn’t stop looking. He had to look him up and down, he had to weave around him, he wanted to… he wanted to hold him. Maybe if he touched him, he could see those colors again the way he was meant to. Maybe he could forget the darkness.

Crowley felt that same darkness as he sat in Aziraphale’s hut, clinging to himself, his nails clawing deeply into the sides of his arms.

_He probably left because he couldn’t stand lying next to wet sop, _the voice said thoughtfully, _the garbage probably stank in his angelic nose. I guess even holy nose hairs can’t stave off the stench._

Crowley clamped his eyes shut. He willed that inner self to shut up, he begged it.

But what if it was… right? Where could Aziraphale have gone that he couldn’t have even woken Crowley? Couldn’t have invited him? He would have understood the angel being a tad blushed when they awoke, but Crowley had not expected him to just up and leave him from embarrassment.

_He’s probably meeting with his Head Office. He probably hasn’t mentioned you since the Garden, he probably glazed right over his indiscretion and happily recalled the execution of Jesus. Good job, though, seducing an _angel _of all creatures! _Your _Head Office will be undeniably pleased._

Crowley scoffed at the idea of telling Lord Beelzebub about his rendezvous with Aziraphale. It would only put them both in danger. He would never put Aziraphale in that kind of danger. _And he would never put himself in that kind of danger for you. You were just a moment of weakness. _

The darkness was beginning to suffocate him. He had to get out, out, _out! _

Crowley snapped on his clothing and wove his way through Aziraphale’s stacks of parchments and books to the front door. He burst out of the hut and into the night. It was brighter out here, the light from the nearby city ensured that Crowley was not engulfed in the shadows.

He wandered for a long time until he got his bearings. When he found a familiar tavern, he decided to have a drink, maybe two, and then was thrown out a few hours later by the barkeep.

He stumbled along until he found the place of Jesus’ execution. His body still hung there limply. His head, face frozen in agony, lolled against His chest. A faint breeze stirred His hair, but that was the only part of him that moved.

“Why?” Crowley asked quietly, his voice hardly a whisper. “I didn’t understand Mesopotamia, but I figured You at least had _some _reason for drowning all those people, all those kids. But for _Him?_” Crowley drunkenly jabbed a hand at the corpse, “He was Your _son!_ Your _only_ son, according to Him. You sacrificed Him? For what? So that You could have another martyr for Your game?”

The desert was silent around him. Of course, it was. The Almighty had not spoken to Crowley since before She had ripped him mercilessly out of the cosmos, sent him plummeting to Hell, and burned him alive.

“You discarded me like trash when I was no longer the conformed soldier you wanted. Is that what You did to Him? Was He no longer useful? Or more useful dead?” Tears formed in Crowley’s eyes. He rubbed them away with his sleeve.

_No, no more crying for You_, he thought, _I’m done feeling sorry for myself, done feeling like less. Now, I’m absolutely enraged._ If She wanted him to be an angel, or it was her ineffable plan that he become a demon, he was done with it. He would do what he liked from now on, and Heaven and Hell could get biffed. He would do what it took to save himself.

“Crowley?” a small voice said behind him. He whirled around to face Aziraphale, who clutched his robes tightly in his hands, his face uncertain.

“Where have you been?”

“I was waiting to see if anyone was going to take Him down,” Aziraphale shrugged, then pointed to a small hill some ways away. “I didn’t want to get in the way if that was the case, but… I don’t think it’s going to happen.”

“Your home is… very dark, angel. Wouldn’t have expected you liked it like that,” Crowley said stiffly, keeping his distance from the angel.

Aziraphale looked a tad embarrassed, “I’ve tried desperately to sleep as humans do, but I’ve found I simply cannot sleep if there’s even a bit of light. I discovered last night that I can _fall_ asleep after strenuous… exercise, but I had trouble _staying_ asleep.” He gave Crowley a smile, and when Crowley did not return it, Aziraphale took a step back from him.

Crowley could tell the angel was unsure of how to act to the way he was presenting. His jaw was set, his back ramrod straight, his eyes unkind. He did not feel like being kind, but the way Aziraphale was staring at him, eyes pleading, was almost enough for Crowley to soften. _Almost_.

He didn’t need Azirphale’s comfort right now, he needed to… _hate_, to do something other than collapse in the angel’s arms as he wanted. If he let Aziraphale hold him now, he would never leave his calming embrace.

They heard a noise, both turning toward the sound. A man had walked up behind them, carrying a linen cloth. It was Joseph. He stopped walking as they turned to face him. He looked between the two and held the cloth out towards them. It was a shroud.

“I can’t stand the thought of him up there,” he cried softly, silent tears spilling down his face.

Crowley and Aziraphale simply nodded at him and set to work. They carefully lowered the cross, releasing the body of Christ from its binding. They followed Joseph, carrying his son’s body, not saying a word, to the tomb he had prepared. There were people gathered around it, carrying spears and torches.

“You dare bury the body of Christ?” they asked. Crowley stepped forward to wield some of his own justice toward the people who had murdered his friend, but Joseph stopped him.

“Why are you angry against me because I begged the body of Jesus? Behold, I have put Him in my new tomb, wrapping in clean linen; and I have rolled a stoned to [close] the door of the tomb. And you have acted not well against the just man, because you have not repented of crucifying Him, but have also pierced him with a spear."

Then, in a chilling, grief fueled whisper, "All your wickedness will return upon you.” (2)

They helped Joseph to close the tomb, pretending to work quite hard to close the space. Crowley could have pushed the tomb closed with his pinky.

As Aziraphale conversed with Joseph and then the others, Crowley chose to slip off into the darkness, leaving his angel in the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1). Fun Fact! Snakes are blue-green color blind, so I think Crowley can only see blues and greens after he fell. I would be angry too if all the colors I had helped create were just... gone.  
(2). I know it was a different Joseph who buried Jesus, but I honestly really prefer the idea that Jesus was a person, not just a mythical being, y'know? I think his parents would have been wailing, sobbing messes and that they couldn't stand him hanging like that. I tried to make this more... realistic? to me?


	4. Aziraphale Has A Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During his search for Crowley after the events of Golgotha, Aziraphale has a visitor.

It had been almost eight years since Aziraphale last saw Crowley. He tried desperately to find the demon, to _talk _to him, but had been unlucky at every turn. Crowley had simply vanished that day in Golgotha. Nobody knew where he was, not even Heaven’s intelligence.

Aziraphale spent about seven years looking for Crowley before he went to Heaven. He’d phrased it as concern for humanity, of course. He’d gone on about how wily and conniving the demon was, instead of letting them on the fact that Aziraphale often worried Crowley would drink himself into a millennia-long coma. It was only out of pure desperation that he went to them.

They could find no trace of the demon on Earth. They had suggested to Aziraphale that his “adversary” had simply returned to Hell and that he need not worry about what Hell had planned. If something bad were happening, they would tell Aziraphale. He did not believe them, of course, but went on his way and never spoke of it again.

He had spent many a night in many inns around the world, hoping for even a whisper of a sinfully ginger person, one with odd eyes and a queer way of walking, anything to prove that Crowley was still alive.

Aziraphale often wondered if Hell had found out about their _indiscretion_ and acted how they saw fit. It often happened late at night, and Aziraphale would fist the sheets of his bed and try to not break down at the thought.

_If anything, _he would try to console himself, _Hell would give him a commendation! Seducing an angel, tempting an angel to sin, that must be high up on the demon praise list. _This did not often help, for if Hell had found out, surely, they would have told Heaven, if not to rub it in. If that had happened, Aziraphale would have already been burned with Hell Fire, _or_ _worse_, he would have Fallen.

“You haven’t changed one bit,” A voice said from the darkness. Aziraphale sat up from the bed quickly. He looked around his room at the inn but could not see anyone with him.

“Crowley?” he asked, hopefully, his eyes searching the darkness with the desperation of a pathetic lovestruck teenager.

“Try again,” the voice laughed, and Aziraphale could tell it was a woman’s voice. Not _Crowley’s_ female voice, but someone else’s, someone familiar… A figure stepped out of the shadows, and Azirphale let out a small gasp of fear and recognition.

“Lilith,” he breathed, his eyes wide. He moved to the end of the bed to stand, but she put a hand up to stop him.

“Sit, Ezra, let’s catch up. I haven’t seen you since day one.”

He sat back warily, the breath catching in his throat. Lilith snapped her finger and lit the lamp that sat on the night table. She sat in the armchair in the corner of the room. She wore a long dress of white silk, her dark hair curling in tight tendrils down to her waist, her dark shoulders shining in the lamplight, the only skin visible to him as she sat in the shadows.

“It has been a long time, hasn’t it?” he whispered. He was beginning to sweat nervously and hoped that she wouldn’t notice. It had been thousands of years since they had spoken last, and he wasn’t sure how she felt about their last encounter.

She was a demon now, after all, she might decide to be spiteful and hurt him. Being the first human-demon, she was uniquely powerful in ways that Heaven still didn’t understand and didn’t push to know for fear of rageful revenge from the powerhouse of a woman that sat before him.

“Are you afraid, Ezra?” she smiled sadly at him and leaned forward, hands on her knees, causing Aziraphale to gasp despite himself, placing a hand over his mouth in shock.

Her hands and arms were mottled with scars, deep tight whips that raked from her fingertips and tangled themselves up her arms and over her shoulders. They trailed over her chest and neck, hid underneath her dress and revealed themselves again on her bare feet. A deep tendril of scars snaked down the left side of her face, and as Aziraphale traced them, his eyes settled on hers.

The sclera had turned from white to a hateful, violent shade of red. Her veins had become a bright white, cutting sharp and jagged along her eyes, giving way only to the pitch-black pupil, which stood out like a black hole cutting through a particularly bright galaxy.

Aziraphale began to shake, pulling the covers of the bed closer to his chest, and tried to will his lip to stop trembling. _If this is what happened to her because of _your_ suggestion, _he thought,_ this might be your last night in existence._

Lilith rose from the chair, her eyes locked with his, and walked over to the bed. She sat next to him, reaching a hand up to brush the curls off his damp forehead.

For a moment, Aziraphale wanted to close his eyes comfortably, but flinched away at her touch instead. It was gentle, as she had been to him in the Garden. Her hand moved slowly to his cheek, and Aziraphale watched as the sadness crept from her smile to her eyes as she looked at him. Then, she flung her arms around him and pulled him into a deep, bone crushing hug.

After the shock, Aziraphale hugged her back, noticing all at once how much he missed her, and how touch-starved he was. He began to cry into her shoulder, hugging her tighter with each sob. She began to cry too, her hands fisting the back of his robes as they clung to one another in the night.

After a while, they both stilled, still clinging to each other. It must have taken hours, but eventually, they untangled themselves.

“I would have thought you hated me, Lil, after what I did. I would not blame you if you took my life right here and now, seeing the damage that was done to you.” Aziraphale felt the tears well back up again as he traced the scars on her arms with his fingers. She twitched now and then at the touch, but she did not pull away from him.

“This did not happen because of you, Ezra, it happened because of the angels.”

Aziraphale looked up at her sharply, “The angels? How could an angel have done this? When you made your choice, they were to let you go, to be free to live as a demon.”

She nodded, “They were _supposed_ to let me go. God didn’t say they weren’t allowed to have some fun before they did.”

He put a hand to his mouth, beginning to pull away from her, “Lilith, this is all my fault. I shouldn’t have told you to do as you please. I should have instructed you to follow Adam, to lie beneath him as he wanted you to.”

She stood up with him, her hands snapping out and grabbing him by the shoulders. “I made my choice, Aziraphale. I was conflicted, so I came to my friend, and I followed the advice I thought would benefit me best in the long run. I swear to you, Ez, it has. I’m happier than I’ve ever been. I don’t belong to _anyone._ Heaven _and_ Hell are terrified of me. I do what I please, even if it means sticking to the shadows.” She gestured vaguely to her arms and eyes, giving him a reassuring smile that did nothing to appease his guilt.

“You were tortured… because I couldn’t stand the thought of you spending your life following that man. I didn’t want you to be miserable at the expense of his need for control. I should have stayed quiet.” Tears began to fall from his eyes, and he clung to her tightly. “I am so sorry, Lilith, I should have just stayed quiet.”

“What do you think happened to Eve after Abel died?” she asked suddenly. He looked up at her, his eyes questioning.

“I-I don’t know. I wasn’t there, and I never heard of her again. Crowley told me about it, but he seemed so upset I didn’t want to push…”

“He brought her to me,” she smiled. “She spent her whole life following Adam. The only choice she made for herself was to eat that apple. She didn’t want to have children, but she did, because Adam wanted her to. She didn’t want to do a lot of things but did them for him. When Abel died, and Cain was taken by the Dark One, she wandered for a long time. She was lost, until Crowley found her. She remembered him and begged him to kill her. Women would pay for her sin for eternity, and she could not bear it. Her sons had paid for it, and it was eating her alive.

“He denied her request and brought her to me. She begged me to kill her too.”

“What did you do? Did you end her suffering?” Aziraphale had not even thought that Crowley would have something to do with Eve’s demise. Surely, he wouldn’t do something like that?

“No. Crowley told her that if she were to blame for womankind’s suffering, then he was as well. More so, in fact, because he convinced her to eat the apple in the first place. If I were to kill anyone it should be him.

“She had been on this world barely twenty years, and it had broken her down. If Eve wasn’t a predictor for what it would be like to live as a woman on this Earth, I don’t know what could be.” Lilith’s harsh eyes shed a single, blood red tear. It wove down the long tangles of scars along her cheek and crashed into her white dress. It blossomed on the fabric, stretching out into a large circle. Azirphale watched as it bloomed, wanting to miracle the stain away, but knew Lilith would not allow it.

“I turned her into a demon.”

“You what?” Aziraphale looked back up to her face.

“I turned her into a demon, like me. I gave her the power that God and Adam had chosen to keep from her for her whole life. We travel together now. We love one another, Aziraphale, _romantically_. She is the best thing that ever happened to me, and I am so glad I met her.” She smiled at him happily and reached a hand back up to brush his curls back once more. “Without the two of you, we never would have met, and I would have probably died a slave to a man who wasn’t worthy of me. You and Crowley helped us come together, and now I’m going to help you.”

Aziraphale now pulled away from her, his body stiff, no longer friendly toward her touch. She frowned at the loss of his warmth against her hands but did not move to reclaim him. She sighed once, running a scarred hand over her curls.

“I know you’re looking for him, and I’m telling you to stop, Ezra. You’re going to get the both of you killed, and I don’t mean discorporated. I mean blazed out of existence.” Aziraphale realized in that moment how much he missed the dark brown her iris had been long ago. Her eyes would be soft toward him but would turn hard and sharp at the slightest hint of anyone trying to assume control over any part of her. They had been beautiful eyes.

“I just need to speak to him,” he insisted. “The last time I saw him he was so upset, and then he just disappeared. What if something dreadful has happened to him?”

Lilith laughed, and Aziraphale shrank further away from her, feeling suddenly backed into a corner.

“You mean you want to _fuck_ him,” she laughed again, hands on her belly. Once the laughing subsided, her face became serious again. “Ezra, you want that demon in unholy ways, and the people upstairs could take notice if you don’t reel it in a bit.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Aziraphale pretended to be shocked and abhorred, but was frustrated that she knew this about him. Had Crowley told her about their night together? Surely, he wouldn’t have, but then again Aziraphale never would have thought Crowley would choose to bring Eve to Lilith.

“You see, I know a great deal about this Earth, about God. I’d like to say I know a bit more than you, but you’ve been alive a lot longer than I have.” She sat down on the bed again, her elbows on her knees. “Aziraphale, if you keep looking for this demon so openly, you’re going to find yourself in trouble.”

“I _definitely_ don’t know what you’re talking about.” He crossed his arms like a petulant child, refusing to look her in the eyes.

“Aziraphale, I’ve never lied to you. Not once. You always told me the truth, even if it hurt, you told me. You were the one who told me they were coming for me, and to run. You gave me that choice. You tried to save me. In return for that, I did not tell the Almighty who warned me, no matter how much She asked.” She glanced down at her scarred hands again. Guilt swelled somewhere deep in his gut. He had put her through _so _much, just like all the other men in her life.

“Look,” she said, “if you keep asking around about that demon, you’re going to find yourself in bigger trouble than I was in. And I wasn’t an angel Aziraphale, but I can promise you, Hell Fire hurts like a bitch. It won’t take a second to burn you, it will take a long time. I’ve seen what they do to angels who disobey.”

Aziraphale couldn’t possibly think of a single angel that would disobey, and he didn’t like to think of any angel he knew being sentenced to death by Hell Fire… and to put a human through that… even a human-turned-demon… it must have been excruciating.

“It’s just… the last time I saw him, it ended badly. I just want to talk to him.”

“Then you need to learn how to be a little quieter when you’re asking questions,” she said, “because if _I’m _hearing about it, all the way in the middle of nowhere, other demons are hearing about it. You need to clam up, because I promise you, it’s not just the angels that are going to come after you. If the demons found out that you and Crowley are anything more than primordial enemies, they’re going to kill him, or they’re going to do worse to him. I can promise you Aziraphale, there are other things worse than death,” she said as she saw him open his mouth to protest.

“Then what do I do?” he asked quietly, his voice hardly above a whisper.

“You should just forget him. He’s just a demon.”

Aziraphale did not want to admit that to _him_ Crowley was a lot more than that. But Lilith could see the look on his face, and she’d always seen through him. He had never been able to hide anything from her; she was far too smart. Eve was her own breed of woman. Smart, capable, and curious. But Lilith, she had a bite to her, a ferocity that Aziraphale could not have expected, and was surprised to see. God had made her to be less than Adam, and she chose not to be. She chose to be on her _own _side, and he had watched as it destroyed her life.

“So, what is this thing, huh? An enemies to lovers thing? I mean, you should just forget about it, Ezra, move on. I can tell by your face that you won’t, but we’ve known one another too long to begin lying now.”

Aziraphale didn’t want to lie to her, but he wasn’t sure if he could trust her. She was a _demon_ after all, and demons were not to be trusted. _Crowley’s a demon_, that little voice said from the back of his mind, _how do you know you can trust him? _

Aziraphale shook away the thought, as he shook away _so_ many thoughts lately. It’s not that he wanted to be _lovers _with Crowley, he wanted to be… more? Less? He didn’t know, he just knew it didn’t feel right to go this long without speaking to him.

“I just want to be his friend. He’s the only one who has been on Earth long enough and understands what it’s like. He’s the only one who knows what I’m going through on this Earth. Seeing humanity… as they are. The good, the bad, the ugly. I’ve seen so much, Lilith, too much. Love, so much happiness, but also so much _pain. _These humans, they put one another through awful things, and call it _righteous._ He’s the only one I can talk to about it, because the angels would call it blasphemy, and the demons would call it a job well done. I don’t think either of us feels that way.”

Lilith stared at him for a long time, her face full of sadness for him. “This is going to bring you nothing but grief,” she said finally.

“I know.”

“If you’re going to do whatever you’re going to do with Crowley, you’re going to have to play the long game, Aziraphale. You can’t just go off and do whatever you want. There’s a lot going on.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, and joined her on the bed, their knees touching. It was familiar contact, comfortable contact. He had not felt it since the last time he saw her. God, that was thousands of years ago. Thousands of years without friendly contact from anyone, not even Crowley. Their contact had been… different. Absolutely wonderful, but not like this.

“The world is going to end, genius. Not now, not for a while, but sometime soon the world is going to end. The Anti-Christ will be born, and the Apocalypse will begin.”

Aziraphale shuddered at the thought. He rather liked Earth, and if Heaven and Hell went to war with one another again, he would never see Crowley again and they would not be able to be friends.

“So, what can I do? If the Apocalypse begins there’s no stopping it.”

She smiled, that devilish smile she always had, “You play the long con, babe.”

“What?”

“You stop the Apocalypse,” she deadpanned.

“But you _just _said that it’s not for a long time!” he exclaimed, frustrated to the Heavens with this conversation. It was not one he had planned to have, and he was getting rather tired.

“Yeah, you and Crowley are going to have to… tone it down. If Heaven and Hell find out that you two are doing _whatever,_ they’ll have your hides. They’ll put him in a tub full of Holy Water and they’ll laugh as he screams in agony as he boils from the inside out. Then, he’ll blink out existence forever.”

Aziraphale felt tears threaten to spring from his eyes at the thought. He couldn’t stand the idea of something like that happening to Crowley.

“And you don’t even know if he feels the same, do you?”

“Well, no,” he whispered this time, sobered at the thought of Crowley’s screams. “I guess I don’t.”

“Look, the last thing I want to do is make you feel bad. You were my favorite person. More than Adam, or God, you were my friend. You helped me. You made sure I was safe. And I will never be able to repay you for that, but I will always be grateful. You’ll have to take it slow, take your time, watch your back. Eventually, maybe, you and Crowley can go off and do whatever you want. God knows that’s what Eve and I are trying to do.” Lilith clasped her hands together. “Some day soon, we’ll only be on _our _side. We won’t have to worry about Heaven or Hell, or God or anything. We won’t have to be like fugitives on the run.”

“You could always come with me,” he whispered. He meant it. He had been rather tired of roaming the Earth, doing Heaven’s bidding. He was tired.

“Why? So, _I _can be the reason you’re burned to death by Hell Fire instead of Crowley? No thanks, I think I’ll leave that burden to him,” she scoffed. “I don’t want to see you get hurt, Aziraphale, so I’m telling you. Take your time. Make sure this is going to go the way you want it to, because _both_ your lives are at risk.” She looked at him for a long time before speaking again. “Crowley is at a brothel in Rome. He’s been showing up every few days, drinking heavily, for about three months now, granting miracles. He’s been hiding it under minor demonic work. So, go there, find him, and do what you have to, Ezra.”

Lilith stood up and moved toward the door. Aziraphale followed, ready to go anywhere with her. “I have to go, Ezra. Eve is waiting for me outside, and we’re traveling. I’m not sure where, yet, but at least we have each other.”

Aziraphale clasped her hands in his, squeezing tightly, his eyes holding her gaze. “Thank you,” he said.

“We won’t meet again, angel. Not for a long time. Be careful, and don’t make me have to come save you two idiots from doing something stupid.” She gave him a knowing look, then left him.

_I must pack_, he thought gaily, _I’m going to Rome._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom! Lilith and Eve split from the dude who controlled them and fucked off together. The best love story I ever wrote. Hope you enjoyed! :) The next chapter will be about what happened in Rome! (If you don't know, Lilith was the first woman [in some versions of the bible, Jewish lore I think?] and left Adam and Eden to become a demon because she refused to be less than Man.)
> 
> I also love the idea that technically, Aziraphale was the first tempter, not Crowley. ;)


	5. Rome 41 A.D.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's what happened in Rome! Warning, Smut Ahead babes!
> 
> I know, I know, "Dusty, it's been weeks, where have you been?" I'm sorry, kids, it's been nutso at work. I have a few chapters geared up as I have like 8 days off in a row! Plus, I delivered hardcore with this chapter. I need a girlfriend to peg me like this bc man, I have an imagination.
> 
> I'm promising less angst next chapter, and more Aziraphale/Crowley interaction that's not sexual. I know I love angst, it's me being horny and lonely, but I don't like making my boys suffer. I think I'll even add some humor. Also, I'm writing an AU, so that'll be up soon.
> 
> Also, we're gonna have some fem!Crowley here soon, as well as some top!Crowley. I'm having some feelings and ideas are swirling with all this awesome fanart. I might also put all the smutty parts into a fic so you can read it if you're horny for porn without plot. I don't blame you.

Aziraphale spent two days in the brothel waiting for Crowley to show. He was propositioned by quite a few lovely men and women but made a point of telling them he was just there to get a bite to eat. He rather liked their food, which surprised him, because this did not seem the type of establishment to have fine dining. It was loud and raucous, and there was a brawl every few hours, but Aziraphale stayed anyway, eagerly awaiting the moment the demon decided to make an entrance.

He heard Crowley before he saw him, and desperately tried to hide his excitement as he heard Crowley speak to the barmaid. He rose quickly to say hello, his heart positively racing. As he rounded the corner, his nerves got the better of him, stopping in his tracks as he lay eyes on Crowley for the first time in almost a decade.

Draped in dark robes which at first glance seemed plain, but when the light caught them Aziraphale saw the silver and blue detailing that made it appear as though Crowley was bathed in the night sky. A wreath headband of golden leaves sat delicately on his red curls, which were sadly cropped short. Aziraphale could tell Crowley had put as much detail into his hair as he had the rest of his ensemble. They were carefully coiled and gelled in place like little obedient burning serpents, probably not daring to move lest they upset the demon. There was a reason Crowley and Medusa had been so close, with their uncanny ability to reign supreme over their own bodies.

Aziraphale noted dejectedly that Crowley’s stunningly golden eyes were obscured by dark glasses. He’d taken to that trend. He should have known the demon would do anything to look suave and cool like the rest of the young roustabouts these days. He had quite looked forward to seeing them. No matter, the glasses could always come off. If only he could make those red ringlets grow back in an instant. He supposed he could but decided he wouldn’t worry too much about it. Crowley was beautiful no matter what.

His slender fingers trailed lines around the mug in front of him, lips pursed in thought. He always did that, pushing his lips out as if he could kiss a thought into existence. Aziraphale found it rather charming, his mind slipping for a moment to the way those lips had felt on his own neck so many years ago. He found himself drifting off toward the thought and had to pinch his side to ground himself.

_Take your time. Make sure this is going to go the way you want it to, because both your lives are at risk._ Lilith’s voice echoed in his mind as he stared at the demon, who was grunting at the barmaid for a drink.

She had been right, after all, Aziraphale did not know if Crowley felt the same way. He probably did not value their friendship in the same way Aziraphale did. After all, demons couldn’t feel love according to everything he’d heard about them. He supposed Crowley was different, though, as he had never met a demon quite like him. Maybe he did care for Aziraphale’s friendship, maybe he cherished their times together, though the image of Crowley pointing at him and howling with laughter flashed in Aziraphale’s mind, and his heart skipped a beat from the fear.

Lilith and Eve loved one another, and they were demons, but they were human demons, whose powers were unknown to all. They probably did not even know what they were capable of. Love was a uniquely human feeling that angels could only replicate, though Aziraphale often felt his love for humanity threaten to cause his heart to explode right from his chest. If his feelings were just a parallel copy of humanity’s, their version of love must be unbearable. No wonder so many of them committed suicide when feelings came back unrequited.

Aziraphale moved up behind the demon, going over the surprise he would use when he first “noticed” Crowley in his head. His hands shook a bit and he clutched the mug in his hands, praying silently that he would not shatter it with his grip. He should probably drop some of their familiarity, lest someone was watching. It might hurt Crowley’s feelings but at least they would both be safer that way.

“Crawley?” he asked, feeling very rude for a moment before replacing it with the demon’s new name, “Crowley? Fancy running into you here.” The demon glanced over at him for a moment, before turning back to his drink.

A tad dejected, and more unsure of where their relationship stood, Aziraphale tried to recollect himself. He sat up straighter, smoothing his cream robes over his lap, and took a quiet sip of his drink before speaking again, enjoying the warmth of it spreading throughout his body. It gave him a bit more confidence.

“Still a demon, then?” _Mm, stupid question_, he thought, and Crowley seemed to share the same sentiment. He turned to fully face the angel then, his face contorted into an annoyed snarl, his brows furrowed in that same way he always had. He hardly looked at Aziraphale like that, he usually looked rather softly at him.

“What kind of stupid question is that, ‘Still a demon?’ What else am I gonna be, an aardvark?” He turned back to his drink again, grumbling under his breath.

Aziraphale could feel his patience eroding quite quickly. “_Salutaria_,” he said sarcastically. He would give one more attempt at friendliness and then he would be decidedly irritated. “In Rome long?”

“Just popped in for a quick temptation.” He didn’t look up, but at least the way he said it hadn’t been rude. “You?” he offered, glancing up at Aziraphale.

“I thought I’d try Petronius’ new restaurant. I hear he does remarkable things to oysters.” Aziraphale was quite excited for that, yes, and would have already tried the restaurant had it not been for the fact that he wanted to go there with Crowley. Instead, he’d neglected his poor stomach and waited here two days for him. The food had been delightful, of course, but not what he had been most eager for. He would never ask Crowley to accompany him, of course, not unless the demon offered up interest.

“I’ve never eaten an oyster.” There it was, the feigned interest, the invitation to more. Oh, it was always a game between them, and Aziraphale adored it. It was always rather fun to duck and dodge, to play each other up just to spend some time together.

“Oh,” he smiled, setting down his drink on the bar, “Oh, well let me tempt you to- Oh, no. No, that’s your job, isn’t it?”

Crowley turned his body toward him again, this time forgetting his drink and his scowl. There it was, that smile, that grin of amusement that told Aziraphale he had the upper hand, even if only for just a moment.

  
  
  
Dinner had gone well enough, and Aziraphale was truly so very happy to see Crowley, but he felt his anger rising with the demon throughout their time together. He seemed completely unfazed by what Hell would do to him if they found out. Aziraphale tried to reason with Crowley, but his demeanor was only flirtatious.

“You really must stop, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, “As I’ve told you, granting miracles as a demon is dangerous. You could get yourself killed, my dear. I do not want to see that happen to you.”

His hand snaked up Aziraphale’s leg over and over throughout dinner, teasing, rubbing light circles onto the softer parts of his inner thigh. Aziraphale had tried to ignore it, but it was getting harder, for lack of a better word, and so was he.

“Y’know angel,” Crowley said lightly, his free hand under his chin, elbow supporting him on the table, “I’ve missed you quite a lot these last few years.”

Aziraphale said nothing, just glared at the demon over his tart. He had told Crowley over and over how flirting in public was dangerous, but he kept waving Aziraphale off with the flick of his hand. He was growing quite annoyed with a certain yellow-eyed serpent and would make him pay if he didn’t contain himself.

“I’ve spent many a night in many lonely beds, thinking about you,” Crowley smiled as his hand moved to cup Aziraphale beneath his robes, smirking as he felt the angel’s growing length. His face was flushed with drink, as always. “I mean, I’ve been ever so cold… all by my lonesome.”

“I’m sure you could have found suitable company elsewhere,” Aziraphale growled, finally pushing Crowley’s hand off him.

“You’re saying you didn’t miss me, angel?”

“I’m saying you’re drunk and stupid, and I’ve had just about _enough_ of this conversation.” Aziraphale rose from the table, smoothing his robes out and turning to face the door. Crowley rose with him, the playful expression gone, replaced by one of worry.

“I’m going to my inn, Crowley,” Aziraphale gave him a dark look, “where there’s a bed, and a rather large tub I can soak in, alone.”

Blush crept up Crowley’s chest and into his cheeks almost immediately. His jaw set in place, his raised eyebrows the only revealing sign of how wide his eyes were behind his dark glasses.

“Sounds good. I think I might have myself a soak as well,” Crowley nodded, “in my own room of course.”

“Of course.”

  
The walk back to the inn was made in silence, Crowley’s incessant shuffling the only noise between them. Crowley wrung his hands, fixed his headband, adjusted his glasses, all while Aziraphale kept his hands in his robes and his eyes forward. Crowley was sure he was aware of Crowley glancing over every few moments, his mouth opening to speak, then closing again as he looked forward.

(Meanwhile, Aziraphale tried to bite back a smile as the demon fidgeted beside him. He could tell he’d made Crowley quite nervous and delighted in the fact that Crowley still did not know what was in store for him. He kept his eyes forward, face expressionless, enjoying Crowley’s torment.)

“Look, angel, I’m sorry for earlier,” Crowley said as they entered Aziraphale’s room, his hands still fidgeting about. “I know you’re just lookin’ out for me. I just guess after Golgotha I lo-”

Aziraphale whirled around as soon as the door began to shut, clutching the collars of Crowley’s robes, shoving him gruffly against it.

“Angel, I said I’m so-”

“Shut. Up,” he growled, though Aziraphale’s face was enough for Crowley to immediately cease talking. The rage there was terrifying to look at, if not a bit… _arousing_. He cursed himself silently as he felt himself begin to stir. “Stop moving.”

Crowley gripped Aziraphale’s arms for support anyways, surprised as always at the muscle underneath the angel’s chubby exterior. He was rock solid underneath, necessary for the Guardian of the Eastern Gate, a soldier of Heaven.

His hands shook as Aziraphale’s unblinking blue eyes held his gaze, daring him to look away. He tried to steady his arms, but they refused to obey.

“Really, angel. What are you gonna do, smite me?” he asked, a little unsure. He gave Aziraphale a small smile and a shrug for good measure. It didn’t work. Aziraphale lowered him slowly until their noses touched. Aziraphale’s breath was hot and heavy in his face while Crowley held his own. He looked ready to smite the demon.

“Angel, _please_,” Crowley almost whined, almost. This could still be a game, or Aziraphale pouting as he had in 204 B.C. when Crowley snagged the last bite of his dessert. That had been a dreadful two weeks, stowed away under a ship while Aziraphale lounged in the cabin above, using his will to keep the demon chained away.

Aziraphale stared at him for a few more long moments before reaching a hand up and removing Crowley’s glasses. He blinked back at the angel, his eyes wide, pupils dilated into golden rings.

Aziraphale slowly removed his hold from the demon’s robes, “Stay.”

Crowley’s breath quickened as Aziraphale pushed his legs apart with a knee, raising it slowly as he put pressure, enjoying as Crowley squirmed. His eyes stayed on Crowley’s as he tossed the glasses aside. Crowley’s head went to follow them as they clattered to the ground, but the angel’s hand snaked up and snatched his jaw tightly, forcing him to keep eye contact.

The thought that it might leave bruises scampered through his mind, and he felt himself growing harder against Aziraphale’s knee, which was pushed against him, also hard enough to cause bruises. Crowley’s eyes began to cloud over as the lust took hold of him, putty in Aziraphale’s hands.

“Say ‘please’ again,” Aziraphale whispered, his voice level, commanding yet quiet. The back of his hand was beginning to push down on Crowley’s throat. Red blossomed over his pale skin, a deep blush coursing through him. He was beginning to sweat, his chest heaving nervously.

“Angel,” he began, but Aziraphale gripped him tighter, pushing his head against the door with a thud. Aziraphale’s knee was starting to get uncomfortable, and Crowley tried to adjust himself in a more comfortable position, groaning in frustration when he couldn’t.

“Say ‘please’ again, my dear, or I’m afraid I might actually cause you some pain.” Crowley shuddered at the thought, both nervous and excited at the prospect. His breath came out in gasps, trying not to struggle against the angel’s hand, which was seemingly made of steel.

“P-please, angel,” he croaked, his hands began pawing at Aziraphale’s wrists, his vision beginning to blur.

“Good boy,” Aziraphale said, abruptly releasing his grip on the demon’s neck, his knee withdrawing as well. Crowley sank to the floor heaving, arms struggling to hold himself up.

“_Fuck_, angel, I said I was _sorry_!”

“Yes, but you never quite mean it, do you?” Aziraphale stood over Crowley, that queer look still on his face. Crowley sat up on his knees, still gasping as he felt gingerly along his jawline. There would be bruises. He could miracle them away in an instant but knew well enough that he wouldn’t.

He hardly noticed Aziraphale’s fingers in his hair on the top of his head until they released. He looked up at the angel, who then laced a hand into the hair at the nape of his neck. He pulled Crowley’s head back sharply, forcing him to look back up at him.

“Look at me,” he said quietly, placing a gentle kiss on the demon’s lips before pulling cruelly away. Crowley moved to follow but Aziraphale’s hand held him back. “Do as I say. Tell me you understand.” He gave another sharp tug for good measure.

“Yeah,” he said dumbly, gaping up at Aziraphale. His hair was lit like golden fire from the candlelight behind him. Almost like a halo.

“Say you understand,” he commanded, hand tightening again on his hair. Oh, so this was how the angel wanted to play? Alright, he was game.

“I understand,” Crowley gasped. He wanted the angel, so deeply. Not the way he’d wanted him at dinner. He’d wanted to devour him, but now he longed to be devoured by those bright blue eyes as they bore into him.

“This is a punishment,” Aziraphale said, trailing his free hand along the fresh bruises on Crowley’s neck. “Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

“Good. Do you know why you’re being punished?”

Crowley tried to push through his hazy mind and find an answer, “Because I’m being reckless?” he offered, slack-jawed and limp in Aziraphale’s hands. He’d fallen back onto his feet, knees no longer willing to support him. He was too in awe, too star-struck at the sight of Aziraphale. That dark look on his face was absolutely captivating, and he was entranced and enticed at the thought of punishment.

“Yes.” Aziraphale gave him another small kiss. Crowley chased this one as well, but Aziraphale just held his head in place again, each tug on his hair only solidifying Crowley’s excitement. He was positively buzzing at the prospect.

“What do you think will happen if Hell catches you granting miracles in the streets?”

“Uhh,” Crowley tried again to find his way toward cohesive thought but failed to catch anything. Aziraphale stared at him a moment longer, then released his hold on the demon’s hair. He moved behind Crowley, fingertips tracing along his shoulder as he rounded on him.

While he couldn’t answer him, Crowley assumed the angel didn’t want him to move, or he would have told to him to. He sat, collapsed disgracefully on the ground, keeping his eyes ahead as Aziraphale leaned down to whisper in his ear.

“What do you think will happen to me if they catch you doing that?” The angel didn’t touch him, but his breath tickled the back of Crowley’s neck and a shudder rolled through him as he tried to piece together a thought, any thought at all.

“They’ll… hurt you?” Crowley winced at the thought of fresh hair pulling, his body shaking with anticipation. He was painfully aware of how loud he was breathing and tried to slow down. What the angel whispered next did absolutely nothing to help.

“Good boy.” Aziraphale placed a kiss on Crowley’s neck, and he tilted his head to expose more of it, to entice the angel to kiss him more. He did, teeth grazing the tender flesh as he placed another kiss on him, deeper this time. He trailed more of them down the chord of muscle, leaving small red spots in a neat little line. Crowley allowed his eyes to roll back, basking in the thought of the bruises they would leave.

The angel’s hands reached around to untie Crowley’s robes, fingers dancing along his stomach as he continued kissing the demon’s neck. Aziraphale pulled Crowley closer, molding his body to his back, fingers still dusting along his hipbones.

“Angel,” Crowley tried desperately to hold back a moan, his fogged brain struggling to function properly in the heat of the room. He was beginning to absolutely boil. He needed to get his robes off, to cool down.

“Shh,” Aziraphale breathed, “I told you to shut up, and to do what I say. Is that not what I said?”

“W-well, angel, I’m getting rather hot.”

Aziraphale said nothing, ripping the robes off in one fluid motion, leaving Crowley absolutely bare and suddenly very exposed. His lips and teeth grazed down Crowley’s neck, his tongue swirling and swiping lightly across the bruises he left.

Aziraphale’s fingers laced once again into the demon’s hair, tugging him up on his knees, lifting him until he was guided to the edge of the bed. Crowley expected to be shoved down onto it, but Aziraphale pushed him back down on his knees, his face level with the sheets and pillows littering it.

The angel was behind him again, fingers still knotted into his hair, whispering gently as he bit bruises into the pale flesh of Crowley’s neck and shoulders.

“You’re such trouble, dear, honestly,” he growled as his nails traced red lines into Crowley’s inner thighs, hinting toward his heat, but never touching where the demon wanted most. “You cause so much trouble everywhere you go. It’s almost like you want to be punished.”

Aziraphale’s breath, hot and heavy in his ear caused a shudder to run down the demon’s spine. He sank into the angel’s form, both of them on their knees, Crowley’s fingers clenching a death-grip into the sheets as he tried to hold back a string of arousal-fueled curses.

“Tell me you want to be punished,” he sighed, barely audible above Crowley’s haggard breathing. One of his hands still roamed the sensitive flesh of the demon’s thighs while the other gripped his hip bone, pulling him roughly against the angel’s growing erection.

Crowley pushed his hips back heavily, earning a groan from Aziraphale as he replied, “Oh, I wanna be punished, angel. Please, please, punish me.” He was coming completely undone and the Divine bastard hadn’t even touched him yet. His legs trembled beneath him, his arms and hands tangled in the bedsheets and Aziraphale the only things supporting him.

Crowley heard the shuffle of Aziraphale’s robes as he removed them. He desperately wanted to turn around and look at the angel’s naked form, but stopped himself. He hadn’t gotten a good look in the darkness of Golgotha. Worried that if he moved without permission Aziraphale might just decide to stop, Crowley kept his eyes on his hands and the sheets.

“Bend.”

He did as he was told, sinking further down onto the sheets, rolling his hips up toward Aziraphale, his thighs making contact with the bed frame. The wood was cool and the sheets welcoming in their softness as anxiety wove through his muscles and clamped tightly to his bones. He was excited, yes, but nervous because he knew of the strengths Aziraphale possessed. He had seen him lug rocks and more as Guardian of the Eastern Gate, knew he was capable of ripping the demon in half. _God_, he thought sickly, _please rip me in half_. (1)

Two fingers, already slick with whatever lube Aziraphale miracled up, danced at his entrance. Crowley did his best to hold back a groan as Aziraphale teased him, rolling his fingers in light circles as he prepared the demon for what would come next.

That breath came, hot as ever, as the angel leaned down to speak in his ear. He felt the soft warmth of Aziraphale’s stomach and thighs mold against him, felt his hard length press against his back as he spoke. A shudder racked his body and he swore he could come right there and then from the anticipation of it. _Satan, I am so pathetic_.

“Tell me why you deserve to be punished.”

Crowley’s head swam with the possibilities. He’d done so many _naughty_ things over the years, he had to think of which ones to pick out of the muck.

“I’m,” he began slowly, trying to retain some semblance of self-control over his own cock, which was hanging sorely and unattended to between his legs. It ached him as he felt those fingers still teasing. “I’m a bad demon. I-I cause people to lust-”

His breath caught as Aziraphale pushed his fingers in harshly up to the knuckle, leaving Crowley to scramble beneath him as he adjusted to being filled so suddenly.

“Good boy. Tell me more, won’t you?”

Crowley tried to catch his breath before he continued, his eyes crossing as the fog in his brain began to flood with every dastardly deed he’d ever done.

“I tempt them,” The angel began to pump his fingers with each deed Crowley confessed. _Huh_, he thought dreamily, _like the confessional of my dreams_. “I tell them to give in to their temptations and dreams. I encourage them to do the things they normally wouldn’t.”

“I tempted Christ, I _tempted_ Cleopatra,” Aziraphale began to scissor him, peppering kisses where he could reach from his angle. Crowley could feel the familiar heat building up in his abdomen as Aziraphale worked him over.

“How did you tempt Cleopatra?” Aziraphale asked, teeth sinking lightly over his earlobe, sucking more bruises as he returned his affections to Crowley’s neck.

“Uh, I, hnngh,” Crowley groaned loudly as he began to rock back into Aziraphale’s fingers without thinking, the carnal part of his brain threatening to completely take over. Aziraphale wouldn’t let this happen, of course, he enjoyed torturing the demon. His teeth sank down sharply into Crowley’s shoulder, startling him out of his reverie.

“Tell me how you tempted Cleopatra or I’m going to do worse than bite you, dear boy.” Aziraphale moved up to catch Crowley in a heavy, sloppy kiss, “You can keep _fucking_ yourself on my fingers, so long as you tell me. But,” he growled darkly, “you do not come until I tell you to.”

Crowley’s hooded lust-filled eyes caught Aziraphale’s frustratingly calm blue ones. He nodded quickly as he pointedly fucked himself harder and faster on the angel’s ever-quirking and moving hand.

“I tempted her with gold and power.” Aziraphale’s free hand untangled from his red curls, and Crowley craned his neck to watch with pure, jealous want as he began to stroke himself, hands slick with warm lube. Crowley ached, and he struggled to keep cohesive thought as he buried himself in between this moment and back then.

“I took the form of a beautiful woman,” Aziraphale’s fingers slowly removed from him, and Crowley’s breath hitched as Aziraphale lined himself with his entrance, like a snake coiled to strike vulnerable prey. “And I came to one of her parties. I enticed her to sleep with me, and encouraged Mark Antony to join.”

Aziraphale’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he thrust into Crowley, hard. The demon gasped loudly, painfully, fisting the sheets as Aziraphale sank deeply into him to the hilt. They both clung to one another, adjusting to the feeling; Aziraphale filling Crowley so fully he thought he might be ripped apart (thanking the angel the entire way, of course), and Aziraphale adjusting to the hot, tight, welcoming warmth of Crowley’s receptive body.

Crowley, ever the sadist, began to move first, arching his back and rocking slowly onto the angel’s cock. Aziraphale stayed still, breath still hovering dangerously in Crowley’s ear.

“Did he join?” the angel croaked, trying to maintain his control over the demon. Crowley knew he’d gained the upper hand by moving first. He was loving this punishment, though, and continued to abide by the game rules Aziraphale had set.

“No,” Crowley moaned heavily as his pace picked up, fucking himself with more momentum onto Aziraphale’s throbbing, pulsing heat. Aziraphale’s fingers dug deeply into the demon’s hips as he began to fuck Crowley back, skin slapping heavily against one another as Crowley recalled the tale, a smile on his face, “he wanted to watch as we touched each other.”

Aziraphale let out a gasp in his ear, one hand snaking back up to pull the demon’s sinfully fiery locks back, forcing him into a deep kiss as he fucked him roughly. Crowley’s legs dug into the bed frame, his nails ripped through the sheets as his tongue plunged hot and wet into the angel’s mouth.

Aziraphale pulled back for a moment to gasp, “Tell me what you did. _Confess_.”

Crowley’s eyes rolled back in pleasure at _that_ word. He let Aziraphale slam into him for a few moments before answering, basking in the warmth building deep inside him as Aziraphale reached down to finally, mercifully, wrap his hands around his aching length.

“I touched her while he watched. I fucked her with my- ah, _yes_ angel, yes,- fingers, fingers! I fucked her with my fingers and I devoured her as she rode my face.” Crowley was lost in both the memory of soft thighs wrapped around his face, wetness dripping down his chin as he ravaged her cunt, and lost in Aziraphale pounding him deeply and so hard. He reveled in it as he heard the angel come undone. His punishment turning into a rather nice surprise. He was beginning to unravel, and felt his own self-control falling away as the angel pumped him emphatically.

“I kept eye contact with him as he touched himself, wrapped those… strong hands around his cock and watched me fuck his woman,” Aziraphale bit down again on Crowley’s shoulder, his hand snapping up to grab the demon’s and wrap it around his own cock. A silent order. The angel’s hands knotted into the sheets in front of Crowley as he adjusted, pounding Crowley violently into the bed frame. “I touched myself as I held her wrists behind her back. She called out my name as we came to- together.”

Crowley came hard into his hand, his own teeth sinking into the sheets of the bed as Aziraphale fucked him so fully from behind. He groaned and panted in Crowley’s ear, Crowley’s self-control completely leaving him as he rode out his climax, “Fuck, angel, you’re so goddamn beau-” Aziraphale bit down hard again, another warning to continue the story, his hand replacing Crowley’s as he milked him, ignoring the demon’s sensitivity, willing him to keep hard and ride the orgasm until Aziraphale relented.

“Hng, oh, _fuck angel_, fuck,” he couldn’t stop the orgasm, and at that moment realized that _this_ was the punishment, not the story. _I came without permission_, he thought dreadfully. He wouldn’t be allowed peace until he made the angel come as well.

Crowley tried to muster all his wits as he rocked back hard into Aziraphale, hips rolling and bucking wildly as he desperately tried to ride out the punishment he was being given.

“He wasn’t done, though. Ahh, he said he had to thank me and, _fuck_, he fucked me until I came again, and she sucked on my nipples and played with my clit until I came a third time! _Fuck, angel, please, please come for me_,” he begged, his voice filled with stress and exhaustion as he came again into the angel’s hand. Aziraphale kept fucking him through it, his hips stuttering and his breath shaking in Crowley’s ear.

“Good boy,” the angel whispered throatily, his hands dug deeply into Crowley’s hips, bruising more as Aziraphale spread him open even further, “Such a _bad, lustful, seductive demon_. You tempt me to such _wonderful_ things,” Aziraphale shuddered, his groan screaming out of him as he came heavily into Crowley. They rocked back and forth as they rode out the last of their orgasms. Their bodies slick with sweat and fluids as Aziraphale collapsed heavily onto the demon. His hand slipped free of the sheet, the other releasing Crowley’s aching member, both hands reaching around to envelop Crowley in a shaky hug. He placed a gentle kiss to the dark bruise blossoming on Crowley’s shoulder, smiling as he winced away from the pain.

Crowley’s face broke out in a stupid, sex-hazed smile as the angel kissed lightly down his back. His brain still swam with lust and exhaustion, his legs hardly holding him up as he committed each kiss and each bruise that bloomed with pain as the angel worked him over with aftercare.

“You need to be careful, my dear,” Aziraphale whispered against Crowley’s spine. Crowley still heaved as he lay with his chest against the bed, his eyes still screwed shut, refusing to tear himself away from the moment. “If they catch us, we’ll lose each other, lose _this_.” His hands fluttered against Crowley’s abdomen, gesturing to them still joined together. He wasn’t prepared for whatever heart-filled speech Aziraphale was gearing up.

“I’d get a commendation for seducing an angel. Don’t worry, ‘m fine, angel.”

The angel’s hands clenched beneath them, his breathing quickened, and Crowley knew the mood had changed. He’d try to salvage it, but wasn’t counting on much. “’Sides, I would never put you in harm's way, they’ll never find out. I promise.”

“Tell me,” Aziraphale breathed, teeth biting down on Crowley’s earlobe gently, “what do you think I will do to you the next time you act insolent in public?”

“I’ll be punished?” the demon asked hopefully. This had been rather delightful, and Crowley bit his lip in anticipation of what the angel would say next.

“No,” One of the angel’s hands entwined tightly in Crowley’s hair, the other suddenly whipped around and grabbed his throat. Crowley gasped, trying desperately to convince his mind to fight it’s panic response, “Next time, I will absolutely wreck you. This was a cakewalk, my dear, trust me.”

Then Aziraphale was gone, leaving Crowley raw and heaving, still clutching the bedsheets for support.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1). God, what a pathetic twink.


End file.
